Essay

Making Their Way through the World: Italian One-Hit Wonders Author(s): Hilary Poriss Source: 19th-Century Music, Vol. 24, No. 3 (Spring 2001), pp. 197-224 Published by: University of California Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/ncm.2001.24.3.197 Accessed: 10-03-2018 17:41 UTC

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19th-Century Music, XXIV/3, pp. 197–224. ISSN: 0148-2076. © 2001 by The Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Send requests for permission to reprint to: Rights and Permissions, University of California Press, Journals Division, 2000 Center St., Ste. 303, Berkeley, CA 94704-1223.

A truncated version of this article was presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Musicological Society, Kansas City, Missouri, in November 1999. I am grateful to Philip Gossett, Roger Parker, and James Hepokoski for their thoughts and advice. Additionally, I wish to thank Luigi Ferrara at the Cini Foundation, Venice, for his assis- tance with the vast number of librettos housed in that collection. The research and writing of this article were made possible by fellowships from the Gladys Kreible Delmas Foundation and the American Association of Uni- versity Women.

Making Their Way through the World: Italian One-Hit Wonders

HILARY PORISS

In 1828 the soprano Adelaide Tosi performed an entrance aria during the � rst act of Rossini’s Otello, even though the composer had inten- tionally excluded such a number from his op- era. Like many of her contemporaries, Tosi had chosen to “correct” the composer’s “oversight.” Perhaps to make these opening moments as memorable as possible, she juxtaposed two numbers, neither of which came from Rossini’s hand: she performed a slow movement from Meyerbeer’s Il crociato in Egitto and a cabaletta

from Nicolini’s Il Conte di Lenosse.1 Taken at face value, this substitution seems unsettling. Not only did she ignore Rossini’s vision for Otello in favor of the shopworn convention of the entrance aria—a custom with which the composer himself had become very familiar,

1Meyerbeer composed the slow movement, “Ah, come rapida fuggi la speme,” for a revival of Il crociato in Egitto that occurred at the Théâtre Italien, Paris in 1825. The singer for whom he wrote it was Giuditta Pasta, who, as I shall show below, performed it in many operatic contexts throughout her career. A score for Nicolini’s cabaletta, “Or che son vicino a te,” is located as an appendix in Gioachino Rossini, Tancredi, ed. Philip Gossett, 2 vols. (Pesaro, 1984), II, 808–18. The libretto where I gathered the evidence for Tosi’s performance is: Otello / ossia / Il Moro di Venezia / dramma tragico / in tre atti / da rappresentarsi / nel Teatro Carlo Felice / La primavera del 1828 / { } / Dalla Tipogra�a dei Fratelli Pagano / Piazza Nuova N. 43 (I:Vgc). This libretto records slight alterations in the cabaletta’s text. Instead of “Or che son vicino a te,” it begins “Ah! già son vicino a te.” Small alterations of this sort are not at all unusual when arias are interpolated into new operatic contexts.

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but she also had the audacity to combine two different pieces by two different composers into one.

And yet by scratching only lightly on the historical surface of this substitution, motiva- tions other than Tosi’s vainglory creep forward; she was only one among many singers who introduced both that slow movement and that cabaletta into variou s operatic contexts. Nicolini’s “Or che son vicino a te” is a particu- larly instructive example: this piece appeared in over twenty different opera productions dur- ing the second quarter of the nineteenth cen- tury, and it was performed in those contexts by some of the most famous divas of the time including Giuditta Pasta and Carolina Ungher. When Tosi inserted this cabaletta into Otello, then, she was not acting entirely on her own. She was participating in a tradition that had just begun and that would persist for many years ahead.

In this essay I shall explore how such pieces as “Or che son vicino a te”—favorite substi- tutes, as I call them—affected Italian opera pro- duction between roughly 1825 and 1850. My point of entry into this discussion is a brief look back into the practice of interpolation dur- ing the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries: as has been recently demonstrated, singers dur- ing these earlier periods seem to have selected much of their borrowed musical material from among a shared repertory instead of relying only on a set of personal favorites.2 With this historical precedent in hand, I then consider the interpolation practice of one of the most famous singers of the nineteenth century, Giuditta Pasta (1797–1865). An exploration of the arias that she used as additions and substi- tutions will bring to light a number of differing motivations for introducing new material into operatic scores, ones that compelled singers other than Pasta to interpolate as well. Most

germane to the current discussion is her fre- quent use of a pair of favorite substitutes. In the third section below I explore the currency of these and similar pieces, brie� y laying out my methodology for identifying such a reper- tory. This discussion leads directly into the story of one prominent example, Giovanni Pacini’s “Il soave e bel contento.”

In drawing attention to interpolation during the second quarter of the nineteenth century in general, and to favorite substitutes in particu- lar, my aim is to challenge traditional under- standings of what it meant to introduce an aria into an opera by Rossini, Donizetti, or any of their contemporaries. For too long we have re- lied on untested assumptions regarding the “trunk aria” (known also as the “suitcase aria” or the “aria di baule”) to explain why pieces traveled from one opera to another and from one author to another. This model implied that singers carried a collection of their favorite arias in their traveling trunks from city to city (hence the term “trunk aria”) and that they introduced these numbers whenever whim dictated. This belief creates an exaggerated picture of perform- ers clamoring for applause and obscures many other forces encouraging the presence of inter- polated arias. I present here an alternative ap- proach to understanding why aria-borrowing maintained such a strong foothold on Italian stages at a historical moment when authority over operatic productions was moving gradu- ally out of singers’ hands and into those of composers.

Pa st Mo d el s o f Int er po l a t io n

I know that you are having some troubles in Brescia. . . . Listen to the advice of a friend: if you are dis- posed to making some sacri� ces in order to obtain calmness (the greatest of all possessions) then do it, but take care to have at least one aria that is suited to you and in which your abilities may shine; if you turn down this necessary privilege, I would label your docility foolishness.3

—Violante Camporesi to Giuditta Pasta, 16 July 1819

2I use “interpolation” as a general term to mean the act of introducing an aria not belonging to the “authentic” ver- sion of an opera into a revival of that work. Under this broad heading fall more precise terms such as “substitu- tion” (in which an interpolated piece replaces an aria from the score) and “addition” (when, as in the case of Desdemona’s opening moments in Otello, singers insert an aria without removing any material from the opera).

3“So che hai qualche dispiacere a Brescia, . . . senti il consiglio di un’amica, qualora tu sii disposta a fare dei sagri� ci per ottener la quiete (sommo dei beni) fallo pure, ma bada di avere almeno un’aria che ti sia adattata e nella

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Camporesi’s advice to her younger and less ex- perienced colleague conjures up images of trunk arias, and it is worth considering in this con- text their most distinguishing characteristics. Trunk arias were an individual singer’s “hits”— pieces that may have been composed with their talents in mind and that had proven to be ex- ceptional vehicles for their voices. Both princi- pal and secondary performers traveled with these works as a type of insurance against fail- ure. Faced with the task of learning a new op- era containing arias unsuited to their voices, they might opt to replace any or all of them with works tucked away in their trunks. The number of pieces carried by each singer is thought to have been relatively small—a hand- ful that they could use repeatedly in new oper- atic contexts. Since performers selected their own individual hits, the contents of each trunk differed with every singer. Although it is un- clear when this practice might have begun, many primary and secondary sources suggest that it likely originated toward the end of the seventeenth century, that it proliferated during the eighteenth, and that it persevered well into the nineteenth.4 Indeed, by encouraging Pasta to select “at least one” preferred number, Camporesi’s words suggest that the trunk aria was still an important component of ottocento

production, a “privilege” that only a foolhardy prima donna could refuse.

And yet, the few investigations dedicated exclusively to interpolated arias that appeared in productions from the seventeenth century to the present suggest that the trunk-aria para- digm was only one among many modes of trans- mission. Among these studies is an exploration of the life and repertory of the eighteenth-cen- tury castrato, Carlo Broschi, better known as Farinelli.5 After examining extant libretti and scores dating from 1720 to 1737, Robert Free- man identi� ed a total of 350 aria texts (as well as 250 musical settings of those texts) sung by the castrato throughout his meteoric career. Since Farinelli’s popularity provided him with an authority that would have allowed him to demand any number of alterations from impre- sarios and composers, Freeman assumed that he would � nd a large number of substitute arias within this singer’s repertory. He was sur- prised, therefore, to identify only fourteen texts that had migrated through more than one of the castrato’s performances.6 This collection did not exhibit many characteristics commonly associated with a singer’s “trunk.” Speci� cally, rather than reusing a stable group of arias, Farinelli tended to vary his repertory, seem- ingly preferring to interpolate new material rather than old. In fact, of the fourteen num- bers contained in his trunk, only two remained there for longer than four years. Moreover, he introduced only one of his “hits” into multiple operas—in this case only three operas at most. Freeman concluded that Farinelli’s approach to selecting and performing substitute arias was anomalous—that his exceptional abilities as a singer and composer made it possible for him to learn a larger quantity of music and to mas- ter a greater variety of styles more rapidly than his contemporaries.7 Indeed, the article con- cludes with a compendium of eighteenth-cen- tury reports suggesting that less capable sing- ers were more dependent on the trunk-aria model. The most convincing is an account by

quale possa brillare la tua abilità; se ricusasti anche a questo per te necessario vantaggio, chiamerei schiochezza la tua condiscendenza.” Pasta Collection of the New York Pub- lic Library of the Performing Arts at Lincoln Center. Cited in Kenneth Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta on the Opera Stage (Ph.D. diss., City University of New York, 1983), p. 41. 4Jennifer Williams Brown, “Con nuove arie aggiunte”: Aria Borrowing in the Venetian Opera Repertory, 1672–1685 (Ph.D. diss., Cornell University, 1992); Julian Budden, The Operas of Verdi, 3 vols. (rev. edn. Oxford, 1992), I, 5; Daniel E. Freeman, “An 18th-Century Singer’s Commis- sion of ‘Baggage’ Arias,” Early Music 20 (1992), 427–33; John Walter Hill, “Vivaldi’s Griselda,” Journal of the Ameri- can Musicological Society 31 (1978), 53–82; Mary Hunter, “‘Se vuol ballare’ Quoted: An Early Moment in the Recep- tion History of ‘Figaro’,” Musical Times 130 (1989), 464– 67; John Rosselli, The Opera Industry in Italy from Cimarosa to Verdi: The Role of the Impresario (Cambridge, 1984), esp. chap. 1, “A Season in the Life of an Impresa- rio,” pp. 1–16; Reinhard Strohm, “Pasticcio,” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie (London, 1980), vol. 14, pp. 288–89; and Strohm, “Handel’s Pasticci,” in Essays on Handel and Italian Op- era (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 164–211.

5Robert Freeman, “Farinelli and His Repertory,” in Stud- ies in Renaissance and Baroque Music in Honor of Arthur Mendel, ed. Robert L. Marshall (Basel, 1974), pp. 301–30. 6Ibid., p. 316. 7Ibid., pp. 320–23.

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Ranieri de’ Calzabigi of the preparations typi- cal for a contemporary opera production:

It happens rather often that the virtuosi—the princi- pal male and the principal female singer—who de- termine the fashion of their colleagues, present the composer, the impresario, and the public with arias which they have sung with success in other operas; they compel the composer to adjust these at once to their present roles, in order, as they say, to assure the opera’s success.8

Perhaps Freeman was accurate in his conclu- sions about Farinelli—maybe the castrato was unusual in his selection of interpolated arias. But a second study—this one focusing on late- seventeenth-century examples of substitution— suggests that Farinelli’s approach may not have been atypical after all.

In her investigation of substitute arias in Venetian operas composed between 1672 and 1685, as well as in their revivals throughout northern Italy, Jennifer Williams Brown located very little evidence to support the trunk-aria assumption convincingly.9 To be sure, the sample from which she was working was con- � ned; due to limited cast information provided in seventeenth-century librettos, Brown was able to assemble a total of only twenty-two borrowings in which the singer was known on one or both sides of the transaction. Even so, this collection yielded some provocative � nd- ings. Singers at this time did travel occasion- ally with their own substitution arias; two of the examples that Brown identi� ed were per- formed by the famous soprano Margarita Salicola in both donor and recipient operas.10

Such continuity, however, was rare. Instead, it was more common for an aria performed by

one singer in the donor opera to be adopted by a different person in the recipient work. No fewer than fourteen pieces from Brown’s sample bore this trait, and it was from this information that she was able to conclude that many late-seven- teenth-century borrowed arias were constitu- ents of a larger, central repertory—a set of pieces shared among performers throughout Italy and beyond.11 Rather than being dependent on a limited quantity of familiar numbers, individual singers may have selected their borrowed ma- terial from a central pool of arias commonly used for this purpose by other performers as well. This “recycling-box” paradigm (as Brown labels it) has rami� cations for the way in which we perceive the practice, in not only seven- teenth-century operatic productions, but also later ones as well.

This model indicates that borrowed material did not inevitably equal familiar material; at least some productions that included such pieces required that performers learn these as new music. What is more, the recycling-box model shifts motivations for interpolation away from the singers themselves and more � rmly toward issues of audience demand: it is probably safe to assume that a shared repertory of borrowed numbers comprised a collection of works that had proven popular with spectators. The com- pelling factor behind the interpolation of one of these pieces was not necessarily an individual’s attachment to it but rather its reputation as an element that could please audiences.

Since this recycling-box model may have been in� uential in the late seventeenth cen- tury, there is reason to suppose that it carried over as a component of early- and mid-eigh- teenth-century production. As such, it offers an alternate explanation for what Freeman per- ceived as the anomalous character of Farinelli’s trunk. If the castrato had selected his borrowed arias from a set of popular numbers rather than from a group of his own favorites, then the rapidity with which they fell from his reper- tory makes sense: basing his choices on chang- ing fashions would have required � exibility, allowing those currently in style to replace those that had become passé. Thus Farinelli might

8Cited and translated in Freeman, “Farinelli and His Rep- ertory,” pp. 321–22. This letter has, until recently, been attributed to Josse de Villeneuve. See Daniel Heartz, Haydn, Mozart, and the Viennese School, 1740–80 (New York, 1995), pp. 158–64. 9Jennifer Williams Brown, “On the Road with the ‘Suit- case Aria’: The Transmission of Borrowed Arias in Late Seventeenth-Century Italian Opera Revivals,” Journal of Musicological Research 15 (1995), 3–23. 10Ibid., p. 7. The two arias were “Prio ch’io lasci,” � rst identi� ed in a libretto for Ottaviano (Mantua, 1682); the second was “Sì bacia, stringa, e godi,” � rst performed in Re infante (Venice, 1683). Both pieces migrated into the 1683 production of Il talamo preservato in Reggio. 11Ibid., p. 8.

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have resembled his contemporaries more closely than Freeman was led to believe. Perhaps the numbers in his trunk represented a collection of popular substitutes, ones shared among many singers rather than an exclusive group hand- selected by the castrato alone.

All of this raises a question for the nine- teenth century that is equally compelling for our purposes: how might the tendency toward sharing have affected productions of works by Rossini, Donizetti, Bellini, and their contem- poraries? A survey of Giuditta Pasta’s interpo- lations helps to address this problem.

Giud it t a Pa st a ’s Tr unk

In his biography of Pasta, Kenneth Stern wrote that “by {the autumn of 1820} Pasta was fol- lowing Violante Camporesi’s advice and sub- stituting arie di baule in operas not speci� cally written for her voice.”12 A survey of this singer’s trunk—a compendium that I was able to as- semble thanks in large part to Stern’s research— however, reveals a situation more intricate than that suggested on the surface of this statement. In Table 1 I have organized her baule by both aria and chronology: for each number, I have included its original context; the opera, or op- eras, into which Pasta inserted them; and the city, theater, and dates when she did so.13 On occasion, composers supervising revivals of their own operas wrote new music for her to perform within the context of those produc- tions. If she later used these pieces as interpo-

lated material for other operas, I included it in this chart; otherwise, I eliminated it.14

Immediately noticeable about this trunk are the fea tu re s it sha re s in c om mon with Farinelli’s. Pasta’s substitutions, like the castrato’s, were limited in scope: for a singer who took the stage in hundreds of productions throughout her twenty-year-long career, this relatively small collection of arias suggests that interpolation was probably not a primary com- ponent of her approach to individual perfor- mances. Indeed, with only slightly more than thirty productions represented, many of which are clustered around the early part of her ca- reer, aria borrowing appears more the excep- tion than the rule.

Packed into this trunk, moreover—woven into the fabric of each of its arias—is a rich amalgam of motivations for the appearance of substitutions and additions, reasons that af- fected Pasta as well as many of her contempo- raries throughout the � rst half of the nine- teenth century. The � rst instance of interpola- tion listed in her trunk is a case in point. On the night of 30 November 1818, the � nal evening of the autumn season at Padua’s Teatro Nuovo, the company produced a special perfor- mance of Mayr’s one-act farsa, I virtuosi di teatro as well as the regularly scheduled La Cenerentola. As an added feature, Pasta inter- polated Rossini’s famous aria “Tu che accendi” / “Di tanti palpiti” into Mayr’s work. The mo- tivation behind these changes was simple: it was Pasta’s bene� t evening.15 To understand the connection between bene� ts and interpola- tion, it is necessary to recognize the economic issues that surrounded these events.

Beginning in the later part of the eighteenth century and extending well into the nineteenth,

12Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, pp. 57– 58. Pasta’s career spanned roughly twenty years. She made her debut at the Teatro degli Accademici Filodrammatici, Milan in 1816 and spent the following four years in Italy, London, and Paris performing secondary and leading roles in works such as Zingarelli’s Giulietta Romeo, Cimarosa’s Penelope, and Mozart’s Don Giovanni. Her first major pub- lic success came in 1821 at the Théâtre Italien where she sang Desdemona in Rossini’s Otello. Thereafter, she es- tablished herself as Europe’s greatest soprano excelling in roles such as Mayr’s Medea and Paisiello’s Nina. She ap- peared also in many operas by Donizetti and Bellini, creat- ing the title roles in Anna Bolena (Milan, 1830), Norma (Milan, 1831), and Beatrice di Tenda (Venice, 1833). She retired from the stage in 1835 and appeared only occasion- ally thereafter in concert recitals. 13Unless speci� cally noted, my source for this information was Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta.

14This process of elimination affects only one aria: for the 1826 revival of Rossini’s Zelmira at the Théâtre Italien, the composer inserted a new aria for Pasta, who was per- forming the title role in that production: the new music was the prayer “Da te spero, o ciel clemente” and the cabaletta “Dell’innocenza, o dei,” and it appears during the prison scene with Zelmira and Polidoro. There is no evidence that Pasta employed this number in any other operas throughout the remainder of her career. Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, p. 151. 15Notice of this production is found in Il nuovo osservatore, 3 December 1818. Cited in Stern, A Documentary Study of Giudutta Pasta, pp. 30–31.

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Table 1

Giuditta Pasta’s Trunk, 1818–1833

Int er po l a t ed Or ig ina l Oper a Ho st Oper a Cit y / Thea t er / Ar ia Sea so n o r Da t e

“Tu che accendi” / Rossini, Tancredi Mayr, I virtuosi di Padua, Teatro Nuovo “Di tanti palpiti” (1813) teatro 30 November 1818

I virtuosi di teatro Trieste, Teatro Nuovo Carnival 1819–20

“Perché straziarmi Nicolini, Giulio I virtuosi di teatro Trieste, Teatro Nuovo tanto” Cesare nelle Gallie Carnival 1819–20

(1819)

“Fatale imagine d’un Unidentified Pacini, Adelaide e Rome, Teatro Valle primo affetto” Comingio April 1819

“Frenar vorrei le Portogallo, Paër, Agnese di Trieste, Teatro Nuovo lagrime” Unidentified Fitzhenry Carnival 1819–20

Farinelli, I Riti Turin, Teatro Regio d’Efeso Carnival 1822

“Prima s’avvezzi al Orlandi, Fedra Paër, Sargino, ossia Turin, Teatro Carignano lampo” (1820) L’allievo Autumn 1820

dell’amore

“Lungi dal caro ben” Pacini, La sposa Pacini, La sposa Turin, Teatro Carignano fedele fedele Autumn 1820 (1819)

Bellini, Il pirata Vienna, Kärntnertortheater Spring 1830

“Palpita incerta Rossini, La donna del Rossini, Otello Paris, Théâtre Italien, Spring 1821 l’anima” / “O quante lago I Riti d’Efeso Turin, Teatro Regio, Carnival 1822 lagrime” (1819) Otello1 Paris, Théâtre Italien, 1823

Otello London, King’s Theatre, 1825 Otello2 Paris, Théâtre Italien, 1826 Otello3 Milan, La Scala, 1832

“Ah! si per voi già Rossini, Otello Rossini, Eduardo e Turin, Teatro Regio, Carnival 1822 sento” (1816) Cristina

“Sommo ciel” Zingarelli, Giulietta e Eduardo e Cristina Turin, Teatro Regio, Carnival 1822 Romeo (1796)

“Bell’alme Rossini, Elisabetta, Eduardo e Cristina Turin, Teatro Regio, Carnival 1822 avventurose” Regina d’Inghilterra

(1815)

1Libretto, Bn: Yth. 50571 2Libretto, Bn: Yth. 50572 3Libretto, I:Vgc

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Table 1 (continued)

Int er po l a t ed Or ig ina l Oper a Ho st Oper a Cit y / Thea t er / Ar ia Sea so n o r Da t e

“Dolci d’amor Rossini, originally for Mayr, La rosa Paris, Théâtre Italien parole” Tancredi bianca e la rosa May 1823

rossa

“Ah! quel giorno Rossini, Semiramide La donna del lago4 Paris, Théâtre Italien ognor rammento” (1823) Autumn 1824

“Ah, come rapida Meyerbeer, Il Il crociato in Egitto Paris, Théâtre Italien fuggi la speme” / crociato in Egitto September 1825 “L’aspetto (1824) Otello6 Verona, Teatro Filarmonico adorabile”5 Carnival 1829–30

Otello7 Mantua, Teatro Sociale Quaresima 1830

“Il braccio mio Nicolini, Il Conte di Mayr, La rosa Paris, Théâtre Italien conquisse” / “Or che Lenosse bianca e la rosa November 1825 son vicino a te” (1820) rossa

Tancredi8 Milan, La Scala Spring 1829

Tancredi Bologna, Teatro Comunale November 1829

Tancredi9 Venice, La Fenice Carnival 1833

“Il soave e bel Pacini, Niobe Mercadante, Didone London, King’s Theatre contento” / “I tuoi (1826) Summer 1827 frequenti palpiti” Otello Milan, Teatro Carcano

Autumn 1829 Otello Milan, La Scala

Carnival 1832 Otello Venice, La Fenice

Carnival 1833

“Or sei pago, o ciel Bellini, La straniera Il pirata Vienna, Kärntnertortheater tremendo” (1829) Spring 1830

4Gossett, The Operas of Rossini (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1970), p. 445. 5Cabaletta, “Ah, come rapida” newly composed for Paris 1825 production of Il crociato.

6Libretto, I:Vgc. 7Libretto, I:Vnm, dramm. 856.24. 8Libretto, Op. Liv. 3007 9Libretto, Bn: Yth. 51375

impresarios and theater managements in Italy and elsewhere commonly granted bene� ts to their prime donne and primi uomini as an in- ducement to lure the best artists to their com- panies.16 Although the exact terms for these

evenings differed from city to city, they almost always entitled the honored singer (or singers) to some or all of the proceeds accumulated on

16See Richard Macnutt, “Bene� t,” New Grove Dictionary of Opera, ed. Stanley Sadie (New York, 1992), I, 404–05, for

an overview of the bene� t in Italy as well as in other Euro- pean countries and America. See also John Rosselli, Singers of Italian Opera (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 82–84 and 142–43, for descriptions of a few singers’ bene� ts that occurred dur- ing the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

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that night.17 Given these incentives, bene� t evenings often turned into extended gala events—productions during which spectators could expect to hear a wide variety of musical material, not merely a mundane performance of an opera normally planned for that season. It was common for a bene� t evening to comprise a selection of acts from a group of operas, each of which featured the singer of honor in the best possible light. For Carolina Ungher’s ben- e� t evening at the Teatro Comunale in Bolo- gna on 4 June 1832, for example, she and the rest of the c om pany pe rfo rmed act I of Mercadante’s I normanni in Parigi and act II of La straniera.18 And a � ier printed for Giorgio Ronconi’s bene� t at the Teatro Argentina in Rome announced the following array of ex- cerpts: act II of Lucia di Lammermoor, act III of Torquato Tasso, act III of Lucia (except for the duet between tenor and bass), a sinfonia by Fioravanti (director of the orchestra), and

Filippo’s grand scena and aria from Beatrice di Tenda.19

In some theaters, bene� t evenings produced the scheduled work but supplemented it with a series of additional and substitute arias.20 The Teatro Ducale in Parma (renamed Teatro Regio in 1849) was one opera house that followed this practice. From 1829, when the theater was in- augurated, through the middle of the century, carnival seasons almost always included � ve bene� ts, one for each of the four-star singers and one dedicated to the local charity.21 Prior to each of these evenings, advertisements were posted outside the theater announcing the per- former whose bene� t was taking place, the fea- tured opera, and a list of the arias to be interpo- lated. One such poster printed for Angelini Dossi’s bene� t on 24 January 1838, for example, lists the featured opera as Rossini’s Otello, as well as two additional attractions: Eugenia Garcia performed Pacini’s cabaletta “I tuoi frequenti palpiti” as Desdemona’s entrance aria, and Dossi inserted the scena and aria from Donizetti’s Marin Faliero following the sec- ond-act duet between Jago and Otello.22

A similar form of documentary evidence does not survive from Padua’s Teatro Nuovo, but it is possible nevertheless to construct a likely scenario for Pasta’s 1818 bene� t. Knowing that the production had the potential to bring her � nancial gain, she (with the help of the other performers in the company) chose to add the special performance of I virtuosi, a decision probably advertised in advance in the local pa- per, on posters, � iers, or a variety of these meth-

17In chap. 4, article iv, “Serate de bene� cio, e mezze serate,” of Cenni teorico-pratici sulle aziende teatrali (Milan, 1823), pp. 63–71, Giovanni Valle outlines � ve possible payment structures for a singer’s bene� t evening: (1) serata intera: the singer is entitled to all of the proceeds from the evening; (2) serata a metà coll’impresa: the singer shares the pro- ceeds with the impresario; (3) serate franche di spese: the singer is exempt from all expenses accrued that evening; (4) serate col carico delle spese al virtuoso: the singer is responsible for all expenses accrued that evening; (5) serate assicurata in una determinata somma: the singer is paid in a lump sum determined prior to the evening; this amount is entirely independent of the proceeds accrued during the bene� t evening. The terms for a singer’s bene� t were typi- cally laid out in advance in his or her contract. The agree- ment signed by the impresario Vincenzo Jacovacci and Giuseppina Strepponi (dated 9 April 1840) for the 1840–41 carnival season at the Teatro Apollo in Rome, for example, contains the following clause: “Viene inoltre accordata alla sud.ta artista mezza serata di Bene� zio franca di tutte le spese serali, e straordinaria secondo l’uso di Roma per l’appalto de Palchi non compresi in essa serata” (Fn Lanari, 13I.8: scritture 1840–41, c. 15).

There is also evidence that impresarios like Alesandro Lanari bene� ted from these evenings as well. Contracts between him and his singers housed in the Fondo Lanari often include clauses requiring the performer to partici- pate in these events. An agreement with the singer Luigi Salandri (dated 5 August 1842), for example, contains the following stipulation: “Sarà tenuto il Sig.r Salandri a prestare il nome per le bene� ciate a vantaggio dell’impresa cantando in tali sere un qualche pezzo nuovo” (Fn Lanari, 13I.20, c. 2). Not only does this indicate that Lanari him- self took advantage of this privilege, it also demonstrates that interpolated arias were integral elements during these evenings. 18L’eco, 18 June 1832.

19Fn Lanari, 23I.11, c. 93. 20See Rosselli, Singers of Italian Opera, p. 83, for a descrip- tion of a bene� t held at the Teatro del Corso, Bologna (8 August 1818) in which Rosmunda Pisaroni performed an extra scena and aria by Rossini. Notices of such additions are scattered throughout journalistic reviews. An article in Il � garo dated 24 June 1843, for example, describes Anna de la Grange’s bene� t evening in Pavia. The opera was Verdi’s Nabucco, into which she introduced an aria from I Lombardi alla prima crociata. 21Teatro Regio: cronologia degli spettacoli lirici, ed. Valerio Cervetti, Claudio del Monte, and Vincenzo Segreto, 4 vols. (Parma, 1979–82). 22It was quite common for performers to participate in the bene� ts of their colleagues either by singing interpolated solo numbers or ensembles that included the honoree. Ex- amples of such cooperation are evidenced in the manifesti preserved in the archives of Parma’s Teatro Ducale.

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ods. Pasta’s interpolation of “Di tanti palpiti” may or may not have been announced, but in either case, we may assume that she chose it with a keen awareness of its ef� cacy among Padua’s spectators: it was a thank-you of sorts to her benefactors, a gift of one of the best- known arias of the early nineteenth century. To call “Di tanti palpiti” a trunk aria, a term that carries with it associations of whim and caprice, obscures many aspects of its real func- tion in the context of this production.

A similar situation arises in a consideration of some of the other arias scattered throughout Table 1. The production of Pacini’s Adelaide e Comingio in Rome (1819), for example, had been plagued by dif� culties brought about by the strict standards of the censors: any reli- gious reference, as well as all suggestions of physical love, had to be removed or heavily altered.23 It was likely for this reason that Pasta replaced her original entrance aria (“Alma bella, che spiegate”) with the new piece “Fatale imag- ine.” Moreover, the presence of three interpo- lated arias in the 1822 production of Rossini’s Eduardo e Cristina (Venice, Tea tro Sa n Benedetto, 1819) probably had more to do with the history of the opera itself than with any need on Pasta’s part to incorporate familiar music. This work was a pasticcio from its be- ginnings, one that Rossini fashioned from a trio of his earlier operas that were unfamiliar to the Venetian public at the time.24 Perhaps as a consequence of this early history, Eduardo e Cristina often hosted additions and substitu- tions in revivals, and the production in which Pasta participated represented no small excep- tion. She was not the only performer in that company to sing interpolated material. Also added were the duet “Fra i teneri amplessi” from Rossini’s Ricciardo e Zoriade, which she sang with Elisabetta Ferron, and the trio “Crudele sorte” also from Ricciardo e Zoriade, performed with Ferron and Nicola Tacchi- nardi.25 Pasta’s additions, therefore, were merely

part of a broader pattern of change into which Eduardo e Cristina typically fell.

Situated alongside these examples are a group of arias that do not reveal discernible external motivations for interpolation such as those of- fered by bene� t evenings, censors, or operatic contexts. On the contrary, some of the pieces listed in Table 1 were numbers that Pasta prob- ably performed in new contexts because they had proven exceptional vehicles for her voice in the recent or distant past. Nicolini’s “Perché straziarmi tanto,” for instance, originated in his Giulio Cesare nelle Gallie, a work that premiered in Rome (17 January 1819) with Pasta singing the travesty role of Clodomiro. She likely found the aria � attering to her vocal talents, for it was this piece she chose to intro- duce only a few months later into Mayr’s I virtuosi. Similarly, Pacini wrote “Lungo dal caro bene” for her to perform in a revival of his opera La sposa fedele (Turin, Teatro Carignano, 1820), and ten years later she selected this num- ber to replace Imogene’s entrance aria in Bellini’s Il pirata.26 So far as I have been able to determine, these pieces relied exclusively on Pasta for their exposure as interpolations. A few others in this compendium, however, re- veal habits and trends that extended beyond her. When Pasta introduced an aria into the � rst act of Otello, for example, she was doing what many Desdemonas had done before her— inserting a cavatina where Rossini had pur- posely avoided writing one.27 Similarly, she in- serted “Ah! quel giorno ognor rammento” from Semiramide into La donna del lago because she had recently performed “Elena! oh tu che chiamo” during a production of Otello at the

23Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, p. 38. 24The three operas were Adelaide di Borgogna, Ricciardo e Zoriade, and Ermione. See Reto Müller and Bernd-Rüdiger Kern, Rossinis “Eduardo e Cristin a”: Beiträge zur Jarhundert-Erstaufführung (Leipzig, 1997). 25Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, p. 82.

26Ibid., pp. 55 and 203. 27For a discussion of interpolations that appeared during this scene, see Gossett, The Operas of Rossini, pp. 317–18, and Rossini, Otello, ed. Michael Collins (Pesaro, 1994), pp. xxxvi and xxxvii–xxxviii. Of the sixty-nine librettos of Otello consulted for this study, no fewer than thirty-four included texts for arias that sopranos performed at this moment. To take just a few examples: Amalia Brambilla introduced “Se al� n goder mi è dato” from Pacini’s L’ultimo giorno di Pompei (Senigallia, Teatro Comunale, 1828); Giulietta Grisi performed “Della rosa il bel vermiglio” from Rossini’s Bianca e Falliero (Pisa, Teatro di Pisa, 1830); and Fanny Tacchinardi Persiani chose “Se d’amore fra le ritorte” from Pacini’s Alessandro nell’Indie (Pisa, Teatro di Pisa, 1835).

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Théâtre Italien.28 And one of her motivations for singing Nicolini’s “Or che son vicino a te” rather than Tancredi’s rondò-� nale was that the original was simply too old-fashioned for the style of the 1820s.29

There are also occasional hints that Pasta chose to interpolate particular arias because other singers before her had done so success- fully. Writing about Portogallo’s “Frenar vorrei le lagrime,” for instance, Stern explains, “{Pasta} had noted the effect {Josephine} Grassini made with this music during perfor mances of Cimarosa’s Gli Orazi e i Curiazi and expected similar results.”30 At least two singers, in other words, pulled this aria out of its original oper- atic context and employed it as interpolated material. In the cases of “Or che son vicino a te” and “Il soave e bel contento,” we � nd that this tendency toward sharing extended beyond a pair of closely acquainted singers—indeed, these pieces are representative of a group of arias that functioned as the preferred interpola- tions of numerous singers during the � rst half of the nineteenth century.

Fa vo r it e Subst it ut es

My own research on aria borrowing during the 1820s through 1850s began by poring over li- brettos of operas by Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini housed in Venetian and Roman librar- ies. In consulting these documents, my origi- nal goals were straightforward: to locate the scenes into which singers substituted arias and to identify the presumably vast array of pieces that they interpolated. Only shortly into this project, it became apparent that some arias ap- peared as substitutions on a surprisingly fre- quent basis. For instance, the text for “Or che son vicino a te” reappeared in librettos for pro- ductions of La straniera, Il barbiere di Siviglia, and L’ajo nell’imbarazzo; similarly, the text of Pacini’s “Il soave e bel contento” turned up in librettos of Il barbiere, La straniera, L’elisir

d’amore, and Otello. Evidence tucked away in the thousands of librettos housed in the Rolandi Collection (Cini Foundation, Venice) revealed that these arias spread freely throughout the repertory, surfacing in productions of works by such forgotten composers as Coccia, Portogallo, and Morlacchi, as well as those of their better- known contemporaries.31

On Table 2 I have presented an account of seven of the most active favorite substitutes, each of which I identi� ed as appearing in ten or more productions. Beside the title of each aria are listed its opera of origin, the productions whose librettos included its text, and the voice types that performed each piece.32 As this com- pendium illustrates, some favorite substitutes appeared only in a select number of operas: Fioravanti’s “Era notte scura scura” is the best

28Gossett, The Operas of Rossini, p. 445. 29Pasta’s relationship with Rossini and with Tancredi is explored in detail in Rossini, Tancredi, ed. Philip Gossett (Pesaro, 1984), pp. xxxiv–xxxv, and Gossett, The Operas of Rossini, pp. 233–35. 30Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, p. 51.

31I am indebted to Luigi Ferrara for his assistance with this research. He has spent the past eleven years reading and cataloging the contents of all 30,000 librettos in the Rolandi collection, and his database of aria incipits allowed me to identify a group of the most active favorite substitutes and to trace their path through a variety of operatic contexts with ease. 32I have outlined the paths of only seven numbers here, but my work with librettos indicates that the collection of favorite substitutes was far larger. To illustrate, one might consider brie� y the paths of a handful of arias that were introduced at one point or another into productions of Rossini’s Otello. The libretto for the 1829 production in Pavia, for example, shows that Carolina Villa (in the role of Rodrigo) introduced “Dagli affanni ogn’alma oppressa” from Nicolini’s Annibale in Bitinia. This aria also appears in librettos for at least six productions of other operas: Ro ssi n i’ s El isa b etta (Peru gia, 1830) , P acin i’ s La sacerdotessa d’Irminsul (Ferrara, 1822; Senigallia, 1822; Florence, 1823), and Meyerbeer’s Donna Caritea (Turin, 1828; Livorno, 1831). Similarly, Pacini’s “Se al� n goder mi è dato” from his L’ultimo giorno di Pompei was intro- duced by Amalia Brambilla as Desdemona in the Senigallia 1828 performance of Otello. This aria appeared also in productions of Rossini’s Tancredi (Genoa, 1828), Le Comte Ory (Pavia, 1830), Eduardo e Cristina (Pavia, 1831), Pacini’s Gli arabi nelle Gallie (Ascoli, 1830; Mahone, 1832), and Morlacchi’s Tebaldo e Isolina (Rome, ca. 1829). A handful of other arias interpolated into Otello also follow such extended paths: “Soave imagine” from Mercadante’s Andronico, “Elena! oh tu, ch’io chiamo” from Rossini’s La donna del lago, and “Smarrita quest’alma” from Cimarosa’s Penelope, for example. A few others reveal a slightly less impressive presence: “Come mai calmar le pene” from Pacini’s Amazilia, for instance, surfaces as an interpolation in only four productions: Otello (Pisa, 1830), I Capuleti (Lisbon, 1835; 1856), and Morlacchi’s Gianni di Parigi (Varese, 1829). This entire compendium demon- strates that borrowed arias constructed large and compli- cated webs connecting together disparate operas and a large variety of singers, as well as their spectators.

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example, limited almost exclusively to produc- tions of Pacini’s Il barone di Dolsheim and his Adelaide e Comingio. Many substitutes, how- ever, traveled through a wider variety of works, and both men and women performed many of them with equal frequency. Save for a few ex- ceptions—“Tu che I miseri conforti” from Rossini’s Tancredi is the most obvious one— most of these pieces derived from operas that had had only a limited presence in Italian the- aters, works that had failed either at their pre- mieres or soon thereafter. Perhaps it is in part due to these “homeless” circumstances that favorite substitutes were permitted to circulate so freely throughout the repertory. There was little risk, after all, of spectators associating them with their original contexts, possibly al- lowing the arias to slip easily into a variety of new dramatic and musical situations.33

What is most striking about this collection is the strong resemblance it bears to the “recy- cling box” that Jennifer Williams Brown iden- ti� ed in late-seventeenth-century productions. This connection between earlier and later prac- tices merits attention, but before turning to this matter, we should consider what unique role favorite substitutes may have played in ottocento productions of Italian operas, and more important, why they may have become favorites in the � rst place. Pacini’s “Il soave e bel contento” helps to put these questions into a clearer perspective.

“Il so a ve e bel c o nt ent o ”

In 1855 one of Pacini’s earliest biographers de- clared: “Pacini gave to us Niobe whose famous cabaletta made its way through the world.”34

Niobe premiered at the San Carlo in Naples on 19 November 1826 with an all-star cast that included Giuditta Pasta (in the title role), Giovanni Battista Rubini, Carolina Ungher, and Luigi Lablache. This opera concerns the god-

dess Niobe, mother of twelve, who prepares for the marriage of her eldest daughter to Prince Licida of Thessalia. The matriarch’s � erce pride compels her to proclaim superiority over the goddess Latona who, in turn, demands repen- tance, but when Niobe does not comply, Latona strikes Niobe’s twelve children dead and then turns her enemy into stone.35 This opera had a run of approximately seven to ten performances during this season, and it garnered some enthu- siastic critical notice.36 Despite one author’s reference to the work as one of Pacini’s master- pieces, however, there is no evidence that it was ever again performed in a major opera house.37

The “famous cabaletta,” on the other hand, followed a quite different path. Pacini, who tailored “Il soave e bel contento” to the legend- ary vocal skills of the tenor Rubini for his en- trance as Licida, told an interesting (perhaps even true) story in his memoirs. He recalled that Rubini complained bitterly during rehears- als, arguing that the aria was grossly un� t for the human voice. The composer was so con� - dent, however, that he refused all of Rubini’s desperate pleas to alter the score. In the end, Pacini found his obstinacy rewarded, for “Il soave e bel contento” was a tremendous suc- cess with Neapolitan audiences, so much that Rubini begged forgiveness, admitting that he had been a fool ever to refuse the piece.38 In-

33It is interesting in this context to note, then, that al- though “Tu che i miseri conforti” originated in Tancredi, it was part of a scene (the opening of act II) that was often cut from nineteenth-century productions of the opera. See Rossini, Tancredi, p. xxviii. 34Cited in Giovanni Pacini, Le mie memorie artistiche, intro. Rafaelo Colucci (Florence, 1875), p. xvii.

35I have paraphrased Philip Gossett’s synopsis in Giovanni Pacini, L’ultimo giorno di Pompei and Excerpts (New York, 1986), n.p. 36It is not clear exactly how many times Niobe appeared that season. Stern writes, “Niobe was sung eight times; the � rst act only was performed on three other occasions” (A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, p. 171). But in a detailed chronology of Rubini’s career, the opera is listed as having had nine performances, during two of which only the � rst act was heard. See Bruce Brewer, “Il cigno di Romano—Giovan Battista Rubini: A Performance Study,” Donizetti Society Journal 4 (1980), 142. For reviews of the production, see Teatri arti e letterature (7 December 1826) and Giornale del Regno delle due Sicilie (20 November 1826). 37Chilesotti, “Giovanni Pacini,” I nostri maestri del passato (Milan, 1882), p. 423. In this brief biographical sketch, Chilesotti writes only this about the opera: “Quest’opera, che viene considerata come uno dei capolavori di Pacini, fu rappresentata al San Carlo il 19 novembre 1826, ed ebbe ad interpreti la Pasta, la Ungher, Rubini e Lablache; essa fu calorosamente applaudita” (emphasis mine). 38Pacini, Le mie memorie artistiche, pp. 45–47.

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Table 2

Favorite Substitutes

Int er po l a t ed Or ig ina l Pr o d uc t io ns Dur ing Whic h Ar ia Wa s Per f o r med Vo ic e Ar ia So ur c e Type

“Tu che i Rossini, Ritorno di Serse Portogallo Florence 1815 Mezzo- miseri conforti” Tancredi Demetrio e Polibio Rossini Padua 1815 soprano

(1813) Demetrio e Polibio Rossini Palermo 1819 I baccanali di Roma Generali Reggio 1819 Otello Rossini Rome 1820 Il gioventù di Enrico V Pacini Lucca 1821 La gazza ladra Rossini Zara 1821 L’italiana in Algeri Rossini Turin 1823 Semiramide Rossini Rome 1826 Clotilde Coccia Cremona 1826 Otello Rossini Rome 1827 Gli arabi nelle Gallie Pacini Ascoli 1830 Tebaldo e Isolina Morlacchi Venice 1830 Semiramide Rossini Fermo 1832 Tebaldo e Isolina Morlacchi Udine 1832

“Era notte Fioravanti, Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Monaco 1819 Baritone scura scura” Contessa La pietra del paragone Rossini Pavia 1820

di Fersen Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Trieste 1820 (1817) Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Verona 1820

Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Florence 1820 Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Florence 1821 Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Pavia 1821 Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Modena 1824 Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Oporto 1825 Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Novara 1829 Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Varese 1830 Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Florence 1830 Adelaide e Comingio Pacini Milan 1831 Il barone di Dolsheim Pacini Ravenna 1833 La figlia del reggimento Donizetti Bologna 1844

“Or che son Nicolini, La rosa bianca Mayr Paris 1828 Mezzo- vicino a te” Il Conte Il borgomastro di Saardam Donizetti Milan 1828 soprano

di Lenosse Otello Rossini Genova 1828 and (1820) Clotilde Coccia Milan 1828 Soprano

I baccanali di Roma Generali Reggio 1829 Tancredi Rossini Milan 1829 Bianca e Falliero Rossini Lucca 1829 Tancredi Rossini Bologna 1829 Bianca e Falliero Rossini Parma 1830 L’ajo nell’imbarazzo Donizetti Ferrara 1830 Elisa e Claudio Mercadante Modena 1831 Olivio e Pasquale Donizetti Verona 1832 La straniera Bellini Castello 1832 Ciro in Babilonia Rossini Perugia 1832 Gli arabi nelle Gallie Pacini Mahone 1832 Tancredi Rossini Venice 1833

209

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HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonders

Table 2 (continued)

Int er po l a t ed Or ig ina l Pr o d uc t io ns Dur ing Whic h Ar ia Wa s Per f o r med Vo ic e Ar ia So ur c e Type

La straniera Bellini Florence 1833 Semiramide Rossini Novara 1833 L’inganno felice Rossini Venice 1841 Il barbiere di Siviglia Rossini Corfù 1847

“Ma dov’è? Pacini, La donna del lago Rossini Trieste 1822 Tenor Perchè fugge i Cesare in La sacerdotessa d’Irminsul Pacini Sinigaglia 1822 miei sguardi” Egitto, I 3 La sacerdotessa Pacini Ferrara 1822

(1821) La sacerdotessa Pacini Florence 1823 La donna del lago Rossini Parma 1823 Andronico Mercadante Reggio 1823 La gioventù di Enrico V Pacini Siena 1823 Temistocle Pacini Lucca 1823 La donna del lago Rossini Reggio 1825 L’italiana in Algeri Rossini Venice 1826 Didone abbandonata Mercadante Venice 1827 Matilde di Shabran Rossini Faenza 1830 Il falegname di Livonia Pacini Varese 1831 Semiramide Rossini Sessari 1837

“Il soave e bel Pacini, Niobe See Table 3 Soprano, contento”/ (1826) Mezzo- “I tuoi frequenti soprano, palpiti” and Tenor

“Nell’ebbrezzo Persiani, Ines Otello Rossini Milan 1835 Soprano dell’amore” de Castro Lucia di Lammermoor Donizetti Pavia 1837

(1835) Zaira Mercadante Lisbon 1837 Lucia di Lammermoor Donizetti Novara 1838 Lucia di Lammermoor Donizetti Varese 1838 Otello Rossini Pavia 1838 Il bravo Mercadante Sinigaglia 1843 Elena da Feltre Mercadante Trieste 1844 Pia de’ Tolomei Donizetti Lisbon 1846 Otello Rossini Venice 1848 Otello Rossini Venice 1852

“Alla gioia, ed Unidentified Bianca e Fernando Bellini Milan 1829 Soprano al piacer” Bianca e Falliero Rossini Trieste 1829

Tancredi Rossini Milan 1829 Gianni di Parigi Morlacchi Varese 1829 Arminia Pavesi Cremona 1829 La sposa fedele Pacini Lodi 1830 Bianca e Falliero Rossini Milan 1831 Bianca e Falliero Rossini Perugia 1831 L’esule di Roma Donizetti Marcerata 1833 Edoardo Coccia Bologna 1833 La sonnambula Bellini Modena 1834 Otto mese in due ore Donizetti Aquila 1840

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deed, according to one biographer, it was from this point forward that Rubini’s reputation as “the greatest tenor in the world” was estab- lished.39 Even if Pacini embellished his narra- tive, the mythical � avor he bestowed on the story probably re� ects some elements of the truth, as well as a retrospective understanding of how celebrated this aria had become follow- ing Niobe’s demise.

“Il soave e bel contento” gained a high pro- � le on Italian stages, in part for its frequent appearances as an added attraction in bene� t performances. We have already seen that the cabaletta played a central role during Angelina Dossi’s evening in Parma, and journalistic re- views frequently call attention to its presence in other such events.40 That singers continu- ally selected “Il soave e bel contento” for these evenings is signi� cant, for the � nancial stakes involve d in these bene� ts were high. A performer’s reliance on this number indicates a con� dence in its ability to attract and please an exceptionally large group of spectators.41 It was probably this widespread appeal that compelled singers to program “Il soave e bel contento” for their recitals and academies as well.42

Like many popular bel canto tunes, “Il soave e bel contento” received vast exposure on Eu- ropean stages and in private salons in the form of instrumental transcriptions: composers whose names are hardly recognized today trans- formed the melody into such diverse incarna- tions as a caprice for solo cello, a fantasy for clarinet, and a setting for piano four-hands.43 In addition, Franz Liszt adopted the cabaletta tune in his Divertissement sur la cavatine “I tuoi frequenti palpiti” (1835–36), a work for piano solo that he included on his European concert tours throughout the 1830s and 40s.44 Although he undoubtedly gave many memorable perfor- mances of this piece, the most famous occurred on the evening of 31 March 1837 in the salon of the Princess Belgiojoso in front of an elite group of Parisians who were interested in getting to the bottom of one crucial question: who was the greatest piano virtuoso in the world, Liszt or his rival Sigismond Thalberg? For this cel- ebrated duel, one on which both of their repu- tations depended, each musician presented his own composition: Thalberg played his Moses Fantasia, and Liszt, his Divertissement. About Liszt’s performance, Heinrich Heine had this to say:

I no longer know what he played, but I could swear that it was variations on a theme out of the Apoca- lypse. At � rst I could not see them distinctly, those

39Eugenio Gara, Giovan Battista Rubini nel centenario della morte (Bergamo, 1954), pp. 6–7. 40“Il soave e bel contento” was a popular addition to ben- e� ts produced on stages outside of Italy as well. A review published in the Gazzetta privilegiata di Venezia (1 March 1833), for example, discusses this aria’s favorable recep- tion during Pedrotti’s evening at the Bowry Theater in New York. She interpolated Pacini’s number into a perfor- mance of Mercadante’s Elisa e Claudio. 41It is worth noting as an aside, however, that the appear- ance of this piece did not necessarily guarantee large box- of� ce intakes. According to extant ticket-sales records for the Teatro Ducale in Parma, for example, the receipts for Dossi’s evening fell well below the average for the entire 1837–38 carnival season (ASTR Introit. Ser., anno 1833– 46). The average intake each evening that year was approxi- mately 504 lire, whereas Dossi’s bene� t earned only 383. This amount, compared to the 515 lire brought in during the bene� t for the ballerina Fanny Mabel, the 1331 lire for Eugenia Garcia’s, and the 1268 for Orazio Cartegenova’s, moreover, indicates that Dossi’s bene� t was not an over- whelming success. Of course, this situation might have resulted from any number of factors: perhaps, for example, Dossi was not a favored performer among Parma’s specta- tors, or maybe the featured opera, Otello, did not appeal. At bottom, the small sum collected that evening illustrates that, although interpolated arias did help increase revenues, they were not the only in� uential factor. 42An extant program of one such performance at the Teatro Ducale featuring the singer Pietro Rimercata lists this aria

among a group of others by Rossini and Bellini, for in- stance (ASTR, serie carteggio, anno 1842, scat. 19, fasc. III.2). 43An interesting study could be had from these transcrip- tions alone. Thus far, I have identi� ed the following com- posers and their interpretations of the aria: Friedrich Burgmüller, Cavatine de la Niobe: Fleurs mélodiques, op. 82, 1re suite, no. 1 (piano solo); Giuseppe Cecchini, Il soave e bel contento (piano solo); Edward Hesselberg, Niobe valse (piano solo); Franz Hunten, Trois airs italiens variés pour le piano-forte; Henri Lemcke, Variations brillantes sur un thème de Niobe (piano solo); Domenico Liverani, Fantasia sulla cavatina della Niobe di Pacini (clarinet and piano); Nicolas Mori, Il soave e bel contento (violin and piano); Ignaz Moscheles, Gems à la Pasta: A dramatic fantasia in which are introduced the favorite airs “Ombra adorata,” “I tuoi frequenti palpiti,” “Che farò,” and “Ah come rapido” (piano solo); Alfredo C. Piatti, Caprices pour violoncelle seul; and Camille Schubert, 2 rondeaux brillans pour le piano à quatre mains. 44Michael Saf� e, Liszt in Germany, 1840–1845: A Study in Sources, Documents, and the History of Reception (Stuyvesant, N.Y., 1994). See esp. Appendix C: “Sources and Evidence for Individual Concerts,” pp. 227–78.

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211

HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonders

four mystic animals, I could hear their voices only, especially the roaring of the lion and the screeching of the eagle. . . . What Liszt played best of all was his rendering the Valley of Jehoshaphat. There were lists as at a tournament, and around the immense enclo- sure the people pressed as spectators, deathly white and trembling. . . . A storm of applause was awarded to this performance of the valiant Liszt, who rose from the piano exhausted, and bowed to the ladies.45

Clearly, Heine and the other spectators were powerfully moved by Liszt’s performance, ulti- mately crowning him the unquestioned victor in this competition. Even so—or perhaps espe- cially for this reason—his decision to perform the Pacini transcription has perplexed many music historians: why did Liszt select this work for an event so crucial to the future of his career? Why didn’t he choose one of his tran- scriptions of material drawn from a more popu- lar opera such as his Réminiscences des Puritains (1836) or his Marche e cavatine de Lucie di Lammermoor (1835–36).46 Having traced “Il soave e bel contento” through a variety of con- texts, I have begun to arrive at an answer: this piece may have been just as familiar to Liszt’s spectators as any of the tunes he drew from Bellini’s and Donizetti’s works. Just how popu- lar this music was only becomes clear with a survey of its travels as a favorite substitute.

Through a collection of extant librettos, newspaper reviews, secondary sources, and mis- cellaneous documents, I have identi� ed thirty productions into which singers introduced Pacini’s aria, a compendium that probably rep- resents only the tip of the iceberg. In Table 3 I list the operas, cities, theaters, and seasons dur- ing which “Il soave e bel contento” appeared, the singer who performed it, and the sources for this information. As this table illustrates, Pacini’s aria had an enormous appeal to per- formers, both men and women alike. We might turn brie� y to its textual and musical charac- teristics to explore why.

The aria’s text consists of one double- and one triple-quatrain: (4 + 4) + (4 + 4 + 4). The initial lines, in ottonario meter (eight-syllable lines) furnished the text for the � rst movement of this double aria, the cantabile. The conclud- ing lines shifted to settenari (seven-syllable lines) for the contrasting cabaletta. As a whole, the original text conveys the feelings of Licida happily anticipating the arrival of his lover, Asteria. This verse from Pacini’s Niobe aria “Il soave e bel contento” / “I tuoi frequenti palpiti” follows:

Il soave, e bel contento Di quest’alma appien felice Del mio labbro il grato accento Tutto esprimere non sa.

A’ miei voti, al mio desire Fausto arrida il Nume Imene! Fiano eterne le catene E di amore, e di amistà!

I tuoi frequenti palpiti Deh frena o core amante! Or rivedrai l’amabile Oggetto del tuo ardor.

La � amma tua vorace Esprimerà il mio sguardo. . . Dirò . . . mia bella face! Per te divampo ed ardo! Vedrò quel vago ciglio, Che amor, candore addita. . . Tutto a goder m’invita! Pago sarai mio cor!

(The grateful words from my lips cannot express all the sweet and beautiful happiness of this all-contented soul.

On my wishes, on my hopes, may the god Hymen smile propitiously! Let them be eternal, the chains of love and of friendship!

O loving heart, restrain your frequent beating! Soon you will see the lovable object of your passion once more.

My eyes will express your ardent � ame. . . I will say . . . “my beautiful light! for you I smolder and burn!” I will see the pleasing mien that bespeaks love and innocence. Everything invites me to enjoy! You will be content, my heart.)

45Heine in Art and Letters, ed. and trans. Elizabeth A. Sharp (London, 1895), p. 23. Cited in Adrian Williams, Portrait of Liszt: By Himself and His Contemporaries (Ox- ford, 1990), p. 90. 46My thanks to James Parakilas for pointing this matter out to me.

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212

19TH CEN TURY

MUSIC

T ab

le 3

O p

er a

P ro

d u

ct io

n s

in w

h ic

h “

Il s

o av

e e

b el

c o

n te

n to

” /

“ I

tu o

i fr

eq u

en ti

p al

p it

i” A

p p

ea re

d

O pe

r a

C it

y T

h ea

t er

S ea

so n

o r

D a

t e

S in

g er

S o

u r

c e

S ig

is m

o n

d o

B o

lo gn

a T

ea tr

o C

o m

u n

al e

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tu m

n 1

8 2

7 L

u ig

i R

av ag

li a

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

gc R

o ss

in i

L ’u

lt im

o g

io rn

o d

i P

o m

p ei

M il

an L

a S ca

la A

u tu

m n

1 8

2 7

G io

v an

n i

B at

ti st

a R

u b in

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V gc

a n

d V

n m

P ac

in i

D id

o n

e a b

b a

n d

o n

a ta

L o

n d

o n

K in

g’ s

T h

ea tr

e Ju

ly 1

8 2

7 G

iu d it

ta P

as ta

S te

rn 1

M er

ca d

an te

S em

ir a

m id

e F

lo re

n ce

R eg

io T

ea tr

o A

u tu

m n

1 8

2 8

G iu

d it

ta G

ri si

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

gc R

o ss

in i

d eg

l’ In

tr ep

id i

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ll o

M il

an T

ea tr

o C

ar ca

n o

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tu m

n 1

8 2

9 G

iu d it

ta P

as ta

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

a n

d V

n m

R o

ss in

i

I n

o rm

a n

n ia

i n

P a

ri gi

( ac

t I)

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lo gn

a T

ea tr

o C

o m

u n

al e

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ri n

g 1

8 3

2 C

ar o

li n

a U

n gh

er L

’e co

, 1

8 J

u n

e 1

8 3

2 L

a s

tr a

n ie

ra (

ac t

II )

L a

s tr

a n

ie ra

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h éâ

tr e

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m m

er 1

8 3

2 G

io v an

n i

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ti st

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u b in

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h n

so n

2

R o

ss in

i

L a

d o

n n

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lo gn

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ea tr

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o m

u n

al e

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tu m

n 1

8 3

0 G

io v an

n i

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ti st

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ib re

tt o

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R o

ss in

i

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lt im

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io rn

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o m

p ei

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o v

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ea tr

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n iv

al 1

8 3

1 –3

2 F

ra n

ce sc

o P

ed ra

zz i

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o , I-

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la C

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1 8

3 2

–3 3

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d it

ta P

as ta

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co , 2

0 J

an u

ar y

1 8

3 2

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sa e

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u d

io N

ew Y

o rk

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w er

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h ea

te r

Ja n

u ar

y 1

8 3

3 M

ad am

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ed ro

zz i

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ta p

ri v

il gi

a ta

d i

M er

ca d

an te

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ez ia

, 1

M ar

ch 1

8 3

3

O te

ll o

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ic e

L a

F en

ic e

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ru ar

y –M

ar ch

1 8 3

3 G

iu d it

ta P

as ta

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

n m

Il b

o rg

o m

a st

ro d

i S a

a rd

a m

T u

ri n

T ea

tr o

C ar

ig n

an o

A u

tu m

n 1

8 3

3 N

at al

in a

T as

si st

ro L

ib re

tt o

, I-

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a n

d I

-V n

m D

o n

iz et

ti M

o sè

i n

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tt o

S in

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li a

N u

o v o

T ea

tr o

d i

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ra 1

8 3

3 G

io v an

n i

B at

is ta

R u

b in

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V gc

R o

ss in

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in ig

ag li

a R

ic ci

a rd

o e

Z o

ra id

e B

er ga

m o

T ea

tr o

R ic

ca rd

i F

ie ra

1 8 3

3 G

io v an

n i

D av

id L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V gc

a n

d V

n m

R o

ss in

i L

’e li

si r

d ’a

m o

re B

re sc

ia T

ea tr

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i B

re sc

ia C

ar n

iv al

1 8

3 3

–3 4

F an

n y

C o

rr y

P al

to n

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V n

m D

o n

iz et

ti L

’e li

si r

d ’a

m o

re M

an tu

a T

ea tr

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u o

v o

d el

la S

p ri

n g

1 8 3

4 C

h ia

ra A

lb er

ti n

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V n

m S

o ci

et à

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213

HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonders

T ab

le 3

( co

n ti

n u

ed )

O p

er a

P ro

d u

ct io

n s

in w

h ic

h “

Il s

o av

e e

b el

c o

n te

n to

” /

“ I

tu o

i fr

eq u

en ti

p al

p it

i” A

p p

ea re

d

O pe

r a

C it

y T

h ea

t er

S ea

so n

o r

D a

t e

S in

g er

S o

u r

c e

L a

s tr

a n

ie ra

L is

b o

n T

ea tr

o d

i S

. C

ar lo

s 1

8 3 5

Jo ao

S to

rt i

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

gc

O te

ll o

V en

ic e

L a

F en

ic e

S p

ri n

g 1

8 3 5

M ar

ia M

al ib

ra n

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

gc ,

V n

m ,

an d

V le

v i

Il p

ir a

ta B

er ga

m o

T ea

tr o

R ic

ca rd

i 2

4 A

u gu

st 1

8 3

7 R

u b

in i

K au

fm an

3

B el

li n

i

S em

ir a

m id

e S

as sa

ri T

ea tr

o C

iv ic

o d

i A

u tu

m n

1 8

3 7

A n

to n

io M

ic h

el in

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V gc

S as

sa ri

O te

ll o

C re

m o

n a

T ea

tr o

d el

la S

ep te

m b

er 1

8 3

7 E

li sa

T ac

ca n

i L

ib re

tt o

, I-

V gc

C o

n co

rd ia

G em

m a

d i

V er

gy T

ri es

te T

ea tr

o G

ra n

d e

C ar

n iv

al 1

8 3

9 –4

0 S

o fi

a S

ch o

b er

le ch

n er

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- V

gc D

o n

iz et

ti

O te

ll o

V en

ic e

T ea

tr o

A p

o ll

o A

u tu

m n

1 8

4 0

G iu

se p

p in

a S

tr ep

p o

n i

L ib

re tt

o ,

I- R

sc

B el

is a

ri o

V er

o n

a T

ea tr

o F

il ar

m o

n ic

o C

ar n

iv al

1 8

4 1

–4 2

E n

ri co

B o

n fi

gl i

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

D o

n iz

et ti

S a

ff o

F er

m o

T ea

tr o

d el

l’ A

q u

il a

A u

gu st

1 8

4 2

C la

ra N

o v

el lo

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

P ac

in i

L ’a

jo n

el l’

im b

a ra

zz o

N o

v ar

a T

ea tr

o d

i N

o v

ar a

A u

tu m

n 1

8 4

4 E

u ge

n ia

A lb

an i

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

D o

n iz

et ti

O te

ll o

M il

an L

a S ca

la C

ar n

iv al

1 8

4 5

–4 6

C at

er in

a H

ay ez

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

O te

ll o

V en

ic e

L a

F en

ic e

S p

ri n

g 1

8 4

6 E

u ge

n ia

G ar

ci a

L ib

re tt

o , I-

V gc

a n

d V

n m

Il b

a rb

ie re

d i

S iv

ig li

a V

en ic

e T

ea tr

o S

. B

en ed

et to

S p

ri n

g 1

8 4

6 T

er es

in a

K ar

k er

G a

zz et

ta d

i V

en ez

ia ,

R o

ss in

i 1

1 M

ay 1

8 4

6

N o te

s 1 S te

rn ,

A D

o cu

m en

ta ry

S tu

d y

o f

G iu

d it

ta P

a st

a , p

. 1

8 2

. 2 Ja

n et

J o h

n so

n , “

D o n

iz et

ti ’s

F ir

st ‘ A

ff ar

e d i

P ar

ig i’

: A

n U

n k

n o w

n R

o n

d ò

-f in

al e

fo r

G ia

n n

i d

a C

a la

is ,”

C a

m b

ri d

ge O

p er

a J

o u

rn a l

1 0 (

1 9 9

8 ),

1 6

9 .

3 T

h o

m as

G . K

au fm

an , “

G io

v an

B at

ti st

a R

u b

in i:

A P

e r fo

rm an

ce S

tu d y

,” D

o n

iz et

ti S

o ci

et y J

o u

rn a l

4 (

1 9

8 0

), 1

5 3 .

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214

19TH CEN TURY

MUSIC

Most of this text is generic, making its intro- duction into a variety of dramatic situations a simple matter. Still, one line links it to its ancient Greek setting: the invocation of Hymen’s good will in the second quatrain of the cantabile. To prevent disjunctions when interpolating the number, this line was often adjusted to something less speci� c—“Fausta arrida amore intanto”47 or “Fausta arrida il dio del bene”48—or the entire stanza (and presum- ably the corresponding musical material) was eliminated altogether.49 Moreover, there were a few instances when the entire text was revised. To cite one example, in the 1827 Bolognese production of Sigismondo, Luigi Ravaglia, sing- ing the role of the evil Ladislao, performed Pacini’s aria in the middle of the second act. Here the character � nds himself in utter tur- moil: onc e de e ply in love w it h King Sigismondo’s wife Aldamira, Ladislao conspired to have her killed when she rejected his amo- rous advances. Due to a twist of fate, she sur- vived and returned to the kingdom disguised as the “look-alike” Egelinda, a presence who sum- mons up guilt and longing in Ladislao’s heart. Since a character wracked with such emotions would sound foolish uttering the optimistic sentiment of “Il soave e bel contento,” small alterations appeared that turned around the meaning of the text. The � rst stanza, for ex- ample, became:

Il soave e bel contento Di quest’alma appien felice È cangiato in rio tormento Da crudel fatalità.

Similarly drastic changes were made to the re- mainder of the poetry. Thus, although interpo- lating “Il soave e bel contento” did occasion- ally require some effort to make it conform to its new dramatic surroundings, the text itself did not represent an obstacle.

Pacini’s musical setting may also have fa- cilitated the incorporation of “Il soave e bel

contento” into a variety of operatic contexts: at the most super� cial level, its double-aria struc- ture parallels that of many other arias com- posed at this time, thus allowing it to function well as a replacement. Further, the presence of standard musical formulae—stock � gures and gestures that became familiar to spectators ei- ther through Pacini’s own work or through that of his contemporaries—may help to explain why this aria had such a ubiquitous presence through the � rst half of the nineteenth century. Both the cantabile and the cabaletta bear some of these characteristics, and it is worth consider- ing each movement in turn (ex. 1).50

Pacini gained his national reputation as a composer in the 1820s in a theatrical climate entrenched in the works of Giochino Rossini; in his memoirs, Pacini openly admits the pro- found effect this artist had had on his own compositional development: “If I was the fol- lower of the great man of Pesaro, so were all the others. . . . At that time everyone followed the same school, the same style, and thus were imitators, like me, of the Great Star. But heav- ens! what was one to do if there was no other way to make a living?” 51 Rossini’s model emerges most vividly in the slow movements of Pacini’s arias. “Il soave e bel contento” is no exception: the proliferation of vocal embellish- ments punctuating cadential points and the middle of phrases, for example, indicates a de- pendence on the tradition of � orid writing popu- larized by his predecessor. In addition, Pacini adopted standard melodic structures from Rossini: “Il soave e bel contento” begins of a four-line primary section, divided between a � orid opening with cadenza (mm. 1–9; each vocal phrase ends with a half cadence) and a

47La donna del lago (Bologna, 1830). 48Il Mosé in Egitto (Senigallia, 1833). 49See Semiramide (Florence, 1828); Saffo (Fermo, 1842); Ricciardo e Zoraide (Bergamo, 1833); and Gemma di Vergy (Trieste, 1839).

50Following Niobe’s run in Naples, Ricordi published � ve of its numbers in piano-vocal score: Il sogno di Anfone, “Fra le notturne tenebre”; cavatina e duettino {Niobe and Asteria}, “Invan tuoi pregi ostenti”; cavatina {Licida}, “Il soave e bel contento”; preghiera di An� one, “S’è primo tuo vanto”; and scena and aria {Niobe}, “Tuoni a sinistra il cielo.” All of these are available in Giovanni Pacini, L’ultimo giorno di Pompei and Excerpts, pp. 257–321. In this edition of “Il soave e bel contento,” transcribed as ex. 1, the vocal line has already been transposed for soprano voice, indicating its popularity among women singers as well as men. 51Cited and translated in Michael Rose, “A Note on Giovanni Pacini,” Musical Times 124 (1983), 164, 163.

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215

HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonders

Il soa - ve e bel con - ten - to di quest’ al - ma ap - pien fe -

4

li - ce di quest’ al - ma ap - pien, ap - pien fe -

7

li ce del mio

9

lab - bro il gra - to ac - cen - to tut - to e spri - me - re non

10

Cantabile

dolce

a piacere - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

-

Il soa - ve e bel con - ten - to di quest’ al - ma ap - pien fe -

4

li - ce di quest’ al - ma ap - pien, ap - pien fe -

7

li ce del mio

9

lab - bro il gra - to ac - cen - to tut - to e spri - me - re non

10

Cantabile

dolce

a piacere - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

-

Example 1 Giovanni Pacini, Niobe, “Il soave e bel contento,” mm. 1–77.

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216

19TH CEN TURY

MUSIC

sa, no, no, no, non sa del mio lab -broil gra to ac - cen - to il gra - to ac - cen - to il gra - to ac-

13

cen - to tut - to e spri - me - re non sa, no, tut - to e -

16

spri - me - re, no,no, non sa A miei

18

vo - ti al mio de - si - re fau - sto ar -

20

ri - da fau - sto ar - ri - da il Nu - me I - me ne! � a - no e - ter - ne le ca -

22

cresc.

-

-

no,

-

Example 1 (continued)

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217

HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonderste - ne e di a - mo - re e di a - mi stà!

24

27

31

I

34

tuoi fre - quen - ti pal - pi - ti deh fre - na o co - re a - man - te! deh

38

Allegro

Allegro

-

Example 1 (continued)

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19TH CEN TURY

MUSIC fre - na deh fre - na o co - re a - man - te! or

42

ri - ve - drai l’a - ma - bi - le og - get - to del tuo ar - do - re, og -

46

get - to, og - get - to del tuo ar - dor. La

50

� am - ma tua vo - ra - ce e - spri - me - rà il mio sguar - do di -

54

ro . . . mia bel - la fa - ce! per te di - vam - po ed ar - do! di - vam - po ed

58

Example 1 (continued)

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HILARY PORISS Italian One-Hit Wonders

ar - do! di - vam - po ed ar - do! ve - drò quel va - go ci - glio che a-

62

mo - re ar - do - re ad - di - ta . . . tut - to a go - der m’in - vi - ta,

66

tut - to a go - der m’in - vi - ta! pa - go sa - rai mio cor! sa - rai mio

70

cor! sa - rai mio cor, pa - go sa - rai sa - rai mio cor!

74

Example 1 (continued)

lyrical continuation concluding with a perfect authentic cadence (mm. 10–19). This is elided with a secondary cantabile section (mm. 19– 27) —th e s e con d qua tra in pre pa ring the cabaletta—acting as a kind of transition, under- scoring an active dominant (mm. 23–27). His reliance on these, as well as other tried-and- true stylistic traits, however, did not make of Pacini a slavish imitator: on the contrary, he

consistently brought to each of his slow move- ments his own compositional style. Consider, for instance, the manner in which he toys with the melodic gesture of “Il soave e bel contento”: this � gure, � rst anticipated in the orchestra (mm. 2–4) and then heard in the vocal line (mm. 5–7), returns a � nal time (albeit metrically dis- placed) toward the conclusion of this primary section (mm. 14–15). In its � nal appearance,

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Pacini altered its function considerably: while the � rst two incarnations are somewhat iso- lated, set slightly apart from what follows by � rm half cadences, Pacini here expanded the phrase and this time led it to a conclusive per- fect authentic cadence in m. 19. He began by reharmonizing the opening gesture with a viio65/vi diminished seventh that moves toward the submediant chord (m. 15). He then extended this inconclusive gesture by fragmenting the opening motive and placing it into a sequential pattern that broadens out to the dominant (V64– 7 5 3) in m. 16. An imperfect authentic cadence in m. 17 is immediately reactivated and led to full closure, via a cadenza, in m. 19. Although Pacini was certainly not the only composer to develop his melodic ideas in this manner, his talent for incorporating unexpected turns into his music consistently resulted in works that were at once derivative of his predecessor and yet unique. This achievement may also be traced through his fast movements.

It was in his cabalettas that Pacini’s reputa- tion as a composer was de� nitively established: during his lifetime he was known as the “mae- stro delle cabalette.” The cabaletta of the present aria, “I tuoi frequenti palpiti,” embod- ies the stylistic features that he typically in- cluded within these movements. Here, for in- stance, the last movement opens with a play- ful, almost trivial quality: the rapid-march topos and the straightforward sixteenth notes in the melody, each separated by a sixteenth-note rest, create a steady pulsation analogous to excited heartbeats. The rhythmic energy is both under- scored and intensi� ed through the triplet six- teenths in the accompaniment. Set directly alongside this self-evidently imitative device, moreover, is an example of Pacini’s character- istic attempts to break with standard, verse- bound rhythmic formulae. Obviously, the “hook” of the opening phrase is the triplet rep- etition of the words, “deh frena” (“oh restrain,” or better, “oh brake”), in which the � rst repeti- tion (� ung forth, trilled in mm. 42–43) itself represents a sudden “braking” action within the melody, underpinned by a wrenching V43/ ii–ii chordal motion underneath. (The melody of the initial phrase then reproceeds, marchlike, to its inconclusive “cadence” in m. 45.)

Together, these opening measures represent

the � rst limb of a cabaletta whose theme as a whole foreshadows midcentury lyric form, a structure that Pacini typically employed in his early cabalettas, although he usually included some variations on what was later to become the standard AA’BA’’ structure. Here the sec- ond, A’ section, for instance, slumps down- ward to a perfect authentic cadence in the “mel- ancholy” submediant, G minor (m. 53). In addi- tion, the B section of “I tuoi frequenti palpiti”— as usual, prolonging the active dominant—sets four full lines of text rather than two (mm. 54– 63). In the B section, moreover, we � nd an example of Pacini’s gift for composing disjunct contours and abrupt rhythmic motives into his melodies. This central portion is built from two phrases over a dominant pedal. The second begins like the � rst but soon collapses with intermixture from B minor (beginning with the unexpected D s in m. 60), underscoring “divampo ed ardo!” and expanding the idea further with the gasping ascending sequential pattern in mm. 61–63—articulating to the end of the B section with the common harmonic interruption on V. Nor is the concluding A section, the reprise (mm. 64–77), merely for- mulaic. Here the return of the opening mate- rial begins predictably with a literal repetition of the music from mm. 38–41, but this phrase takes an altogether different, much broader and more conclusive path to its � nal cadence in m. 77. In sum, Pacini’s achievement in both the cantabile and cabaletta was his ability to play with more � exible listener expectations, set- ting up seemingly predictable patterns and then shifting away from them in a manner that provides a sense of breathless energy. (A “ritornello” interlude follows {not shown in the example} leading to a full repetition of the cabaletta, text and music, and a broader coda is provided to round out the whole piece.)

At bottom, then, “Il soave e bel contento” / “I tuoi frequenti palpiti” embraces two impor- tant traits of Pacini’s work. On the one hand, he often relied on musical conventions. On the other, he incorporated into these established structures a host of unusual twists and trajec- tories that surely contributed to the novelty and attractiveness of this piece. This explana- tion, however, does not tell the whole story. “Il soave e bel contento” was only one of many

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arias in Pacini’s œuvre to display the character- istics discussed here; furthermore, there was certainly an endless supply of pieces by his contemporaries that also embodied these fea- tures as well. What made “Il soave e bel contento” so enticing as a substitute aria?

When the curtain was drawn on Niobe for the � nal time at the end of 1826, neither Rubini nor Giuditta Pasta had forgotten about “Il soave e bel contento.” Aware of the success this work had brought him in the past, Rubini introduced it into at least � ve other productions through- out the remainder of his career. In fact, by 1831 when another tenor, Francesco Pedrazzi, in- serted the piece into a production of Pacini’s L’ultimo giorno di Pompei, it had become so closely associated with Rubini that a critic re- viewing the performance could simply refer to it as “Rubini’s famous aria.”52 Similarly Pasta, who had been a � rsthand witness of the number’s success in Naples, quickly adopted it as one of her warhorses: she used it as a substi- tute aria throughout her career and featured it in a series of concert recitals following her re- tirement.53 In a letter to her daughter, Pasta credited “Il soave e bel contento” as one of the three pieces ultimately responsible for elevat- ing her to stardom.54 It was a work for which both of these singers had received countless ovations and ecstatic praise from audiences and critics alike. Common sense might dictate, then, that tenors and sopranos whose careers had not scaled the heights of Pasta and Rubini would steer clear of “Il soave e bel contento” to avoid inevitable, and perhaps unfavorable, com- parison. But the reverse seems to be true. Con- temporary reviews suggest that performers of- ten chose substitute arias intentionally to en- courage associations between themselves and

these two legends. In 1832 a critic covering an early production of Bellini’s I Capuleti e i Montecchi, during which the soprano intro- duced a different aria associated with Pasta, wrote, for example: “Taccani, who sang the role of the lovely Giulietta, moved and sur- prised. . . . The Turinese public showered her with applause, most heavily in the second-act aria, and in the interpolated cavatina of the � rst act, which is from Sonnambula, also by Maestro Bellini, written for Pasta, and sung by Taccani in imitation of her” (emphasis mine).55

Taccani’s choice of which aria to interpolate was based on a conscious effort to align herself with Pasta’s voice. It seems likely, then, that a similar desire to associate themselves with Pasta and/or Rubini was responsible for at least some of the instances in which singers like Grisi, Pedrazzi, and Tassistro adopted “Il soave e bel contento” as a substitute aria. What bet- ter way to prove one’s worth than to perform the signature tune of a star? This hypothesis becomes even more convincing when we recall the origins of other favorite substitutes listed in Table 2. In almost all cases, they may be traced back to one of the most famous opera stars of the day. The practice of interpolating Pacini’s “Ma dov’è’ perché fugge i miei sguardi,” for example, seems to have begun with Nicola Tacchinardi, the popular tenor of the 1820s and 30s, whose reputation brought him to opera houses throughout Italy and the rest of Europe; and the � rst to employ Fioravanti’s “Era notte scura scura” was Rossini’s good friend and origi- nal Figaro, Luigi Zamboni. So far as I have been able to discern, moreover, the singers who ini- tiated the trend of using “Or che son vicino a te” and “Nell’ebbrezzo dell’amore” as borrowed material were Pasta and Malibran respectively.

Favorite substitutes, therefore, were almost always associated with one or two famous sing- ers. Their contemporaries subsequently adopted these pieces, performing them in theaters throughout Italy and beyond as a way of align-

52“Pedrazzi tenore ha una bella voce ed accenta con molta grazia: esso volle cantare l’aria famosa di Rubini, I tuoi frequenti palpiti, e chi non aveva sentito Rubini, trovò eccellente il Pedrazzi” (L’eco, 8 January 1831). 53Stern, A Documentary Study of Giuditta Pasta, pp. 245, 253–54, and 257. 54Letter dated October 1840 and cited in Maria Ferranti Giulini, Giuditta Pasta e i suoi tempi (Milan, 1935), p. 180. In this letter Pasta writes: “Tu vuoi sapere qual fu il pezzo che portò la palma, e io non saprei se . . . ‘I tuoi frequenti palpiti,’ o la romanza ‘di notte tremenda’ oppure ‘di tanti palpiti’.”

55“La Taccani, che sostiene la parte dell’amabile Giulietta, commosse e sorprese . . . ed il Pubblico Torinese la coprì d’applausi, massime nell’Aria dell’atto secondo, e nella intrusa Cavatina del primo, che è quella della Sonnambula dello stesso Maestro Bellini, scritta per la Pasta, e cantata dalla Taccani ad imitazione di lei” (L’eco, 28 May 1832).

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ing themselves with a handful of beloved per- sonalities. Imitation may not have been the core reason why this set of arias appeared fre- quently; such recurrence may also have been an important consequence of a growing reli- ance on a coalescing canon of musical “master- works.” At � rst this possibility may appear to be wildly counterintuitive. A term like master- work (associated with other familiar concepts such as the artwork, genius, and author) typi- cally conjures up images of entire operas—works in the strong sense of the term, integral, large- scale structures that powerfully resist intru- sions by substitute arias. How is it possible, then, that the move to a stable repertory of operas may also have enabled the presence of this group of favorite substitutes?

The Fa vo r it e Subst it ut e a s Ar t wo r k

The shift toward our modern repertory system of operas occurred gradually, and the task of identifying starting and ending points is com- plicated by the range of habits and customs that permeated every country (not to mention individual towns and cities) throughout Europe. Even so, most musicologists engaged with this issue map out a broad period between 1800 and 1875 as the time during which the practice of restaging older works replaced the continual and rapid production of new ones.56 During this time, Italian attitudes surrounding interpola- tions began to undergo a dramatic transforma- tion. One of the earliest indications of this appears in Cenni teorico-pratici sulle aziende teatrali, a manual by Giovanni Valle published in 1823. Here the author called for a complete ban on aria substitutions, insisting that “all

virtuoso singers are obliged to perform their parts, and {this means} those parts that are origi- nal to the score.” Just a few sentences later, however, he retreats from this stance to declare that there are “different cases in which this rule should be modi� ed.”57 His ambiguous view of aria borrowing re� ects a common opinion toward interpolation that surfaced during the second quarter of the nineteenth century: many critics, composers, and musicians perceived in- terpolations as acceptable only under excep- tional circumstances. Valle and his contempo- raries left few hints as to what these circum- stances might have been, but, as I have docu- mented elsewhere, individual operas tended to open up one, maybe two, scenes during which interpolation was frequent; the rest of the score tended to remain untouched.58

The changing attitude toward interpolation was re� ected not only in where borrowed arias appeared but also in which arias the singers selected. At the same time that a canon of complete operas was being constituted (one in which the sites for interpolation were growing more limited), so too was a steady constella- tion of substitutes. At bottom, then, the situa- tion is ironic: the very presence of favorite sub- stitutes in nineteenth-century productions sug- gests that the practice of aria interpolation— something that music historians have come to perceive as a destabilizing element within op- eratic texts—was made up, at least in part, of a stable group of works. The idea of a “reper- tory,” in other words, may have surfaced in the realm of the substitute aria concurrently with (or perhaps prior to) the time that the same concept was becoming associated with whole operas. But if a sense of continuity permeated favorite substitutes during the � rst half of the nineteenth century, what are we to make of borrowed-aria repertories that had appeared dur- ing earlier periods? Might spectators who

56See, for instance, Lydia Goehr, The Imaginary Museum of Musical Works: An Essay in the Philosophy of Music (Oxford, 1994); Joseph Kerman, “A Few Canonic Varia- tions,” Critical Inquiry 10 (1983); Emmanuele Senici, “‘Adapted to the Modern Stage’: La clemenza di Tito in London,” Cambridge Opera Journal 7 (1995), 1–22; Will- iam Weber, The Rise of Musical Classics in Eighteenth- Century England: A Study in Canon, Ritual, and Ideology (Oxford, 1992); and Luca Zoppelli, “Intorno a Rossini: sondaggi sulla percezione della centralità del compositore,” in Gioachino Rossini 1792–1992: Il testo e la scena (Pesaro, 1994), pp. 13–24.

57“Tutti i virtuosi di canto sono obbligati ad eseguire la loro parte, e que’ pezzi che sono originali dello spartito . . . vi sono però diversi casi che consigliano un temperamento a quanto si è detto” (Valle, Cenni teorico-pratici sulle aziende teatrali, p. 91). 58Hilary Poriss, Artistic License: Aria Interpolation and the Italian Operatic World, 1815–1850 (Ph.D. diss., Uni- versity of Chicago, 2000).

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crowded into opera houses in the late seven- teenth century, for example, have perceived what Jennifer Williams Brown labeled recycling- box arias as a stable repertory as well?

Possibly so, but in my view this was prob- ably not the case. The reason may be attributed to an issue of frequency: Brown’s recycling-box numbers did not surface as often as did such arias as “Il soave e bel contento.” At most, Brown identi� ed the migration of a single piece through three operatic productions. Thus, be- cause performers at that time were in the habit of sharing arias, the level of consistency was far lower than during the nineteenth century. The reception of favorite substitutes and recycling- box arias, therefore, represented markedly di- verse situations, for the earlier set could not have engendered the same sort of audience rec- ognition as did the later—spectators simply had fewer opportunities to become familiar with them.

This entire question, however, was deter- mined by more than events occurring within the opera house; it also resulted from differing, more private modes of music-making. Thomas Christensen has recently explored how such public genres as opera and symphony began to be appropriated into the private realm toward the end of the eighteenth century by means of the keyboard arrangement.59 One of the pri- mary catalysts for this development was the burgeoning presence of the piano in European parlors and living rooms starting around 1770. The popularizing of this instrument brought with it an unprecedented demand for musical scores of all sorts. These included not only works composed speci� cally for the piano but also transcriptions of symphonies and arrange- ments of operatic works in piano-vocal format. The growing market for these scores through- out the nineteenth century, Christensen argues, effected a radical and irrevocable alteration of

the identity of operatic works. What had once been tethered to the theater could now be expe- rienced, learned, contemplated, and criticized within the private sphere. This new intimacy shifted the manner in which operatic works could be received; conversely, spectators, newly provided with the ability to play through their favorite operas in the home, demanded the pre- sentation of these works in the theater as well. A new sort of permanence was established, one that relied on a � uid interaction between pub- lic and private and that served as one of the principal means by which the modern system of a stable repertory was constituted.

It is in a similar sense that individual ex- tracts, “arias and ensembles,” could have gained a canonic persona as well. It was common prac- tice in Italy and elsewhere for publishers to release the most popular numbers from an op- era in piano-vocal arrangement as soon as pos- sible after the premiere.60 Thus numbers such as “Il soave e bel contento” and “Or che son vicino a te” had the potential to develop active followings outside the opera house as well as within. Favorite substitutes, therefore, repre- sented more than the preferred works of indi- vidual singers—they were also arias popular- ized in the private arena: they represented everyone’s favorites. Such participation among audiences was impossible until the sort of do- mestic consumption, enabled by piano-vocal transcriptions, existed. Consequently, the re- cycling-box arias that Brown identi� ed could not have obtained the status of repertorial works that favorite substitutes were able to do.

The presence of a repertory of substitute arias in nineteenth-century productions illustrates one more irony: the aesthetic forces that en- couraged such a stable set of interpolations to coalesce were precisely those that hastened their extinction. Along with the canonization of op- eratic works came the conviction that they should be performed according to the author’s design—that is, without substitute arias. Thus

59Thomas Christensen has investigated these arrangements in two separate articles, both of which I gloss from here: “Four-Hand Piano Transcription and Geographies of Nine- teenth-Century Musical Reception,” Journal of the Ameri- can Musicological Society 52 (1999), 255–98, and idem, “Public Music in Private Spaces: Piano-Vocal Scores and the Domestication of Opera,” in Music and the Cultures of Print, ed. Kate van Orden (New York, 2000), pp. 67–93.

60In fact, the publication of excerpts preceded that of whole operas in Italy: Ricordi began publishing individual num- bers in 1808, but he did not acquire the rights to publish whole operas until 1823. See Gossett, “The Ricordi Nu- merical Catalogue: A Background,” Notes 42 (1985), 25.

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by the close of the century, the function of the favorite substitute had virtually disappeared. This evaporation explains why numbers like “Il soave e bel contento” and “Or che son vicino a te” are no longer heard in today’s theaters— indeed, without revivals of Niobe and Il Conte di Lenosse, the possibility of experiencing their most popular arias during an operatic perfor- mance is small. Once pushed to the sidelines on stage, favorite substitutes became obscured from all other realms of musical performance as well: recordings of them, for instance, are practically nonexistent. In fact, the only aria listed in Table 2 available on LP or CD is Rossini’s “Tu che i miseri conforti,” a work whose original opera is still tucked neatly into our standard repertory. Although modern scores are available for a few of these works, there are others (such as Fioravanti’s “Era notte scura, scura”) for which I have had dif� culty locating even nineteenth-century editions. The loss of function within the operatic, public realm was deadly for these numbers. Even though they were some of the most popular tunes of the nineteenth century, they could not survive in the private sphere alone. Their livelihood de-

pended on their ability to travel back and forth between these distinct musical geographies, and their extinction became inevitable when such interplay was no longer plausible.

Alth oug h suc h c ompose rs a s Pa c in i, Fioravanti, and Persiani were not known as one-hit wonders to many nineteenth-century audiences—other works of theirs were per- formed and admired—it may be useful to think of them in such terms today, at a time when one of the tasks of Italian opera scholars is the piecing together of critical editions. Obviously, we cannot recover all of the music of all of the nineteenth-century Italian opera composers— the time and resources necessary are well be- yond our means and the outcome probably not very useful. But identifying their favorite sub- stitutes—their one hit (or hits)—provides us with an interesting and economical way of get- ting at those pieces that had the strongest im- pact on nineteenth-century audiences and that have until now remained largely overlooked. Most of Pacini, Fioravanti, and Persiani’s op- eras will never make it back onto our operatic stages, but perhaps a few of their arias should.

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